


Equilateral

by Anonymous



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Established Relationship, Other, Polyamory, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 07:31:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21249704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: i do not know what to tell you





	Equilateral

**Author's Note:**

> i do not know what to tell you

He knows Jean in the throes of her passion, can picture her digging her heels, bouncing on the whole creaking bed. Her head tossed back, hair flowing with untamed energy like the flame at the end of the wick and Scott  _ wants.  _ To be beneath her, to be inside her. To be endlessly consumed by her like oil and wax. 

If Jean and Scott are as waves crashing into the coast, then Jean and Logan must be tectonic plates colliding with earth-shattering violence. She wields a natural dominance, unphased in the face of a man like the Wolverine, with all his vulgarities and roaming eyes. Yet. Even with Scott's urgency to dilute him to a rutting caveman, a rough claiming doesn't sound like something Logan wants from his  _ Jeannie _ . No. He's tender, fingers laced over the edge of the bed while he tries desperately to blunt all his sharp edges. 

"Like this?" Jean asks. 

Her voice is a ripple across the crystal clear surface of his mind. Scott opens his eyes slowly, unsure that reality can improve on the thumbnail he's created in his mind. She has found an ideal halfway point, perched on Logan's lap with their hands across his chest. Scott traces her side with his knuckles, it's a smooth glide over the satisfying plumpness of her hips. He nudges her off center with a hand on her back and her thighs quiver and tense. Making her hold this position over Logan's cock when her body is unsteady with arousal is cruel. A little. Not as cruel as dipping his fingers in her heat without warning and painting glistening streaks down the inside of her thighs with her wetness. Scott's two fingers drive into her deeper than they need to go to just to feel her clench, and to hear the sharp spike of her voice when he does. 

"Perfect." He praises and kisses the space beneath her ribs. Jean unsubtly hugs his face to her breasts. 

"Of course you would be the freaky one." Logan groans at the wall which he has been strongly encouraged to face until Scott is done with his task. "You couldn't just  _ fuck _ like a normal--" 

"If it helps in any way, Logan." Jean chuckles. "He really isn't trying to prolong our suffering. He's honestly concerned with the aesthetics." 

"Not aesthetics." Scott corrects. "Structural integrity." 

He moves to wipe his fingers on his tongue but thinks better of it. He smears her across Logan's hip and swears he hears one of the man's teeth crack. The clock on the wall says it's been twenty-five minutes since he begun. The tightness of Logan's jaw claims it feels more like sixty. 

"Do you need me to take the edge off?" Scott says to his wife. 

"Please." She sighs, only slightly more patient than Logan.

Scott nods. A good tug on her knee is all it takes to make her fall on the flat length of Logan's cock. There is something to be said for aesthetics, despite Scott's prickly nitpicking, because he does not deny the appeal of Jean's full lips hugging Logan's cock. Scott angles his head to watch the man's eyes widen and his throat convulse. Always like a bear with his snout caught in the honey jar, like he's getting away with something he shouldn't. Scott tries not to worry about the implications that has on their relationship. He prefers to find it cute.

Jean holds Logan's hands so tightly her knuckles whiten to a shade of bone. She grinds down on him in a fluid wave of her spine that would lock-up Scott's hip if he tried it. Friction is good, but she's still clenching on nothing. He threads his fingers through the shock of red hair between her legs and quietly delights on her quivering muscles. Scott lays hands on her knee and massages upward to relieve the pain of being stagnant for so long and moving all at once. Jean reads this bit of leniency as a lapse in his control. He's made the rookie mistake of baring his belly to the tiger. The careful distance he's maintained between them shortened, she cups Scott's dick and claims his mouth, deliciously throwing him off his game. 

"Just the tip." She pants. Jean pinches the head of his cock. "Just the tip, I promise--" 

Scott has to grab her by the biceps and kiss her ragged to distract her before she can do irreparable damage to his willpower. She tickles the roof of his mouth with her tongue and wreaks havoc through their psychic link, tempting him to abandon all sense and get lost in the heat of their bodies. 

He had very specific ideas in mind for tonight, and his physical needs fall last in the order of operations for this equation. 

"Later." He says, and nips her mouth before it can form a pout. He turns to Logan just in time to catch him cheating at the game. His abdomen flexes minutely with every intention to buck up to meet Jean's thrusts. Scott pretends he doesn't see when Logan hits the breaks without needing to be told. "Our lady is a cruel mistress, isn't she, Logan?" 

"Not nearly as fucking bad as you." Logan hisses. His fisted hands open to mirror the width of Jean's hips, but his fingers curl over empty air. Obedience. Scott's pupils dilate. "Jeannie, that's  _ good _ ." 

Scott does not disagree. He twitches at the sight of Jean's folds stroking him from tip to balls and doesn't need to imagine how it feels because he's been in much the same position. He takes visceral pleasure in sharing that understanding with both of them, each knowing how the other feels in their ever rotating roles. His mouth waters. 

"Get it the fuck over with. I want my dick wet  _ today,  _ Slim." Logan begs, the best way he can. Sweat gathers and falls from the tip of his nose. By some miracle, his eyes are still fixed on the wall. His willingness to listen to Scott make him blush like his colorful language cannot. "Fucking green light it, check mark it, whatever the fuck--"

Scott knows that when Logan's at two or three f-bombs per sentence he's coming dangerously close to losing him. That's when delayed gratification starts feeling like punishment. He's glad for it. Jean's tells are subtler, but she and Logan have the same rate of tolerance. He feels her nails against his shoulder. He touches her face and the small hairs on his arms stand on end. When he looks into her green eyes he can make out a spark of fiery red.  _ Perfect,  _ he told her, and meant it. 

Scott pulls his feet up on the bed and lays down beside Logan, blocking his view of the wall. He catches him just in time to watch the soft, desperate look in his eyes harden into a glare. There's more to it than he fronts. He's full of anticipation, excitement, impatience. Scott smiles at him. He's been an exceptionally good team player today. 

"Whenever you're ready, babe." 

Logan sticks his arm under Scott's neck and bends his elbow to drag him within gnawing distance. He tries for his mouth and lands on his cheek. Scott turns away so Logan won't have his mouth to drown the first pitiful sound in as Jean takes his cock inside her. The script demands overeagerness, to fuck herself full with little regard for holding off their mutual orgasms, but reality is a lot more beautifully nuanced. Jean's arousal alone and a couple of Scott's fingers aren't enough to erase the stretch of Logan's cock, the difficulty of taking him to the base, and the sound out of Jean's throat is one of frustration that she can't hit the ground running. Scott watches her with growing adoration, so determined to get what she thinks Scott wants just right because he's still a failure at adeptly communicating that he wants them exactly as they are. 

"I love you." He says to Jean, and Logan, and to where they fall together.

It works so well it scares him. He promised Lorna he had no anxieties about focusing on the things that made his life worth living, but he's afraid. He's been missing a piece of himself every moment Jean has not existed beside him. He could be happy being her friend, but he could not be whole without loving her. Holding her. Kissing her. He turns and takes her in too quickly and for a moment it's like seeing her for the first time all over again. It chokes him. 

And Logan. Infuriating, sweet Logan who comes into his room at night and noses the back of his neck until Scott turns and kisses him softly. Always softly, because he's discovered Logan shies from a touch harder than a caress. But he isn't all marshmallowy goodness. If Scott curses, or gives him a tongue-lashing about his fieldwork in bed, his dick still jumps. Logan is never one thing, never what you expect him to be.

"Go on. Fuck her like you mean it." Scott growls. His teeth catch on Logan's ear. He smiles against his reddened lobe before slipping in the sharp prick of his canine. He fists his own cock. He's so close. Scott feels Jean's pleasure echo uninhibited through their psychic link, and Logan's heartbeat matching the stuttering rhythm of their bodies. "Plenty of empty rooms in the house. Fill her up." 

Logan comes with his eyes laughably round. His chest is marked with Scott's own mess.

A silence falls over them. Not tense, but contemplative. 

Jean spurts out a laugh. 

"Really?"

Scott throws his arm over his blot red face. "I read the room wrong." 

So, so wrong. 

"Logan came." Jean says thoughtfully. 

" _ You  _ came." Logan retorts quickly. "My balls were already tight. Either of you could have said  _ anything _ and I would have popped." 

Jean cackles. She moves to take the weight off her knees and their bodies make an unholy sound. Logan always comes a worrying amount, like he's been pent up for weeks, regardless of how long it's been. Something to do with his healing factor. Or just his weird, Canadian, overly virile body. 

"We are all on birth control, so it's hardly cause for concern." She does a curious thing where her index finger touches her right nostril, usually a sign that she's thinking something perverse. "Didn't think you had it in you, husband." 

"You have _it_ in you." Scott says petulantly. 

He might die of embarrassment. His dick has well and wilted. Both of them have to stop him from completely sliding off the bed in his slump of shame. He's redder in the face than his visor. He's ruined the mood. If blood wasn't pounding in his ears he would hear Logan actually  _ patronizing  _ him. And yet.

He feels.

Happy.

Because two people he loves are teasing him in the afterglow of their union. They are shaking him, and tickling him, and trying to get him to uncurl from the tight little ball he's rolled himself into, and they will not stop until he laughs.

Scott smiles against his hands where they cover his face. He let's them coddle him a while longer.


End file.
